crown of white hair wrapped around his head and his face was all wrinkled. His eyes were gray but they were brilliant, too. Just brilliant. They were so bright they seemed to be sparkling.” George almost laughed. “Now… I’m in a train, remember. I’m moving fast. So for me to notice his eyes…” George trailed off.
McKean cleared his throat, and said, “Is the man doing something that catches your attention?”
“Not yet.”
McKean nods. “Okay.”
Martin said, “How old do you think he is, roughly?”
George looked up and grinned. “A hundred and fifty.”
Martin’s eyes widened with shock. “A hundred and fifty years old?”
“Yeah, he was at least that. He was older than any man I’d ever seen. I’d tell you he was two hundred but you’d think I’d lost my mind.” George put a hand to his mouth and nibbled on his nail. “I didn’t think much of the guy at first,” he said, talking through his fingers. “Why would I, right? Yeah, well, after five minutes or so the train stopped. A couple people got aboard and sat near the door.”
“What did they look like?”
“Who, the people that got on? They were nobody, just teenagers. Two boys: sixteen, maybe seventeen. They kept to themselves. They don’t matter. Trust me, they weren’t a part of this.”
Martin nodded his head, trying to understand. He didn’t like the sound of that last sentence: They weren’t a part of this. For some reason that sounded bad to him. It sat in the air like dialog from a bad movie.
A part of this––
What the hell did that mean, anyway?
George cleared his throat. “We started rolling again. After a few minutes I’m looking out the window, watching the world roll by, and I see him again.”
“Who did you see?” Martin asked, with his voice sounding slightly uneasy.
McKean glanced at his partner oddly, but said nothing.
“The old man in the black suit, of course. Who do you think? He’s standing at the shoreline, right near the water. And he’s looking at the train, watching us go.”
McKean, holding back a grin, used a voice that was best suited for small children. “Am I missing something here?
“Nope.”
“It was the same man?”
“Yep.”
“And the train was moving.”
“That’s what I said.”
“You know that’s impossible, right Mr. Lewis?”
“Yeah. It’s impossible, all right. I know. And that’s exactly what I tell myself. I tell myself that it’s impossible, that it’s not the same guy. That it has to be someone different. And at a hundred miles an hour I make myself believe it. I’m no fool, and I’m not getting a good look at this guy. Within seconds he’s in and out of my line of vision, so it has to be someone different, right? Some other two-hundred-year-old-man standing near the tracks in a black suit…
“Well the train stops. I guess we’re at the Ajax station now. The two kids by the door get off; nobody gets on. I’m alone again. We start rolling and I’m looking out the window, you know? I’m watching. Part of me is hoping to see him again because… well… because it’s interesting. Another part of me––the part that’s getting worried––is praying that I don’t see anything. I know the odds are slim, but I don’t want imaginary friends standing at the edge of the tracks. I don’t want to live in the nuthouse.”
McKean shifted his recorder from one hand to the other.
Martin kept his eyes glued on the suspect.
“Sure enough, the train gets rolling and I’ve got my face up to the window. I’m actually leaning my head on the glass at this point. I don’t care. I want to see what’s out there and I don’t want to miss him––if he’s there, which, of course, he’s not going to be… right? Wrong. After a few minutes I see him again. Same black suit, same black tie, same white shirt. He’s standing next to one of those old buildings with the graffiti on it. To be honest with you, I can’t believe it… I really can’t believe it. But it’s him, all right. Three times I see him. But at this point I’m still thinking it has to be three separate people because it can’t be the same guy, it just can’t be. I’m in a train, for crying out loud. There’s no way it can be the same man and I know it. Well, I watch him for as long as I can, trying to burn his image into my head just in case I see him again. But